Page 18 of The Christmas Catch
“I have good news and bad news. Which do you want first?”
“Good,” said Morgan.
“Bad,” replied Ali.
Imogen looked from one to the other. “Okay, I’ll do it the way I want to. The good news is, that was Sam. She says she made a huge mistake. She read an article online last night about first loves and how I could be the one, and she freaked out.” Imogen shrugged, then ran a hand through her blonde hair. “The details aren’t important. The key point is, she got off her bus at the first service station, and now she’s back in Glasgow and waiting at my flat. She let herself in. She has a key.
“The bad news is that I’m going back to Glasgow. This is where our journey ends. Unless you want to come back with me and try again from there? Or you could try to hitch a ride from here? There are normally people on the way out of services, aren’t there? Plus, you’re both hot, so you should have no end of takers.”
Ali blinked. She hadn’t expected that from Imogen’s mouth. But where did it leave them? Buggered.
“This trip is all about you getting back together with Sam, and it looks like that’s going to happen. I’m thrilled for you!” Morgan gave Imogen an encouraging smile.
“Thanks for understanding. Sorry to leave you stranded.” She stood up, jingled, then grimaced. “Give me your numbers, then if you’re still stuck this evening and nobody’s picked you up, we’ll come and get you. Sam and I. You’ll love her. She’s gorgeous. Also, great tits.”
Ali laughed, but keyed her number in just in case. “Thanks for getting us this far. Now, go have your happy ending.” Ali got up and gave Imogen a hug.
“I’m so pleased I met you. Let’s keep in touch!”
“See ya, Thelma.” Morgan gave her a hug too, then checked she had her bag, wallet and phone.
Ali did the same.
“Go get your girl,” Morgan added.
Imogen gave them both a wave, then disappeared out the door of the services.
“Well, now we’re fucked,” Ali said.
“Royally.”
* * *
After they got boredwith freaking out, they hatched a plan. They were going to hitch a ride home.
They stocked up on chocolate, then bought a large pad of paper and a black marker. Morgan wrote the word ‘Devon’ in large block capitals on one sheet, after an argument about exactly what they should write. Ali had wanted to focus on a particular town, and write ‘Exeter’ or ‘Torquay’, both agreeing Dartmouth was too small. However, Morgan won out, saying people would more likely have a vague idea of the direction of Devon. Ali guessed they’d wait and see. If they hit the jackpot and scored a lift, they’d cancel their hire car.
They’d stood at the side of the road for around 20 minutes when a battered red Golf pulled up. Ali banged her hands together and leaned in, only to be confronted by two mean-looking dogs in the backseat. When Ali reached out a hand, one dog snapped its jaw.
Ali jumped back. She was cold, but she didn’t want to be a dog’s dinner.
“You’re welcome as long as you don’t mind sharing with Rod and Emu,” the woman with a mass of frizz for hair told her.
Morgan gave Ali a definite shake of the head.
“Thanks, but my friend’s not a dog lover,” Ali replied.
“Shame, the forecast says snow again soon. Good luck, ladies!” With that, she drove off.
Ali breathed out, fogging the air in front of her. She adjusted her new furry, wrap-behind ear muffs. She didn’t like hats or normal ear muffs as they messed up her hair. “She has a point. I don’t fancy standing here in a blizzard.”
“If a blizzard whips up, we’ll go back to the services, okay? I’d prefer that to getting in the back with those two dogs.”
Ali hugged herself against the cold, but nodded. “Agreed.”
They waited 15 minutes longer, the wind slicing Ali’s face. She glanced at Morgan, who looked frozen. “You don’t have a hat and gloves?”
Morgan shook her head. “They’re in my case. I didn’t think I’d need them on the plane.”
